


tar to heel

by peachans



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Lots of this takes place in a car because i think that's romantic, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Some type of AU uh, Street Racing, That's an element here, other svt members mentioned but like Appearances Are Brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 03:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachans/pseuds/peachans
Summary: It's ceremonial, Soonyoung and his car; the jackknife flutter behind Wonwoo's ribs.





	tar to heel

The traffic lights play green—yellow—red across the dashboard as Soonyoung slows to a stop. One hand on the wheel, fingers tapping, the other rested loosely on the gearshift, poised in anticipation. Wonwoo knows the tune by now.

Nights like these go one of two ways, and tonight it’s this:

Soonyoung swung by his place with last minute notice, because he knows Wonwoo will always drop whatever he’s got going on whenever he comes calling, regardless of circumstance, and drove out far enough for the streets to narrow and the lights to become fewer and farther between. He’ll wait for the first good mark to pull up next to him — Junhui if he’s lucky, Minghao if he’s not — and whatever’s been sitting in his chest all day will unravel with his foot pressing the gas pedal down as far as it’ll go, and Wonwoo egging him on because it’s that or face the reality that this car should’ve bottomed out four years before it ever came into Soonyoung’s possession and isn’t made to try and dust Minghao’s ass.

There’s no reason for Wonwoo to come along when Soonyoung’s in a mood like this, given that he isn’t going to be so talkative, other than to maybe keep him in check if things go too far over the line. But Soonyoung asked. He always asks. So.

Here he is.

A smudge of red out of the corner of Wonwoo’s vision. He glances over to see Minghao’s Hellcat pulling up to idle beside them. Hansol’s got his feet kicked up on the dash in the passenger seat, and when he spots Soonyoung’s car, he slowly pulls them down, sits up a little straighter. Same page.

The light in front of them’s still red, and the countering green to either side casts the set of Soonyoung’s jaw in neon and shadow. His grip tightens on the gear shift, engine revving as he shoots Minghao a sharp look. The edge of the smile on his face turns something in Wonwoo’s stomach. He settles his feet on the floor, watches the lights change green—yellow—red—

green.

_Floor it._

  
  
  
  
  


“She’s pretty, right?” Soonyoung’s got this light in his eye like there’s already no talking him out of this. Doesn’t matter that the car’s older than the both of them, or that Wonwoo’s bike cost more than it’s going for.

“She looks like she belongs in one of the Star Wars movies as spare parts on a desert planet.”

It gets a snort out of Soonyoung, and gets him to look away from the Mustang and settle his gaze on Wonwoo instead. “Your perspective is so wrong.”

“I’m just not convinced it’ll even get you all the way home. Or me, for that matter.” Wonwoo says it lightly, though. Soonyoung’s got this one track mind always focused on _going,_ the faster the better, has all the scars to show for it, so he’ll make it work.

Wonwoo tilts his head, squinting his eyes at the busted headlight.

_Somehow._

“She’s gonna have you eating her _ass_ once I’m done with her,” Soonyoung says. “Jihoon even promised to help me with whatever, you know. So she’s gonna _soar.”_

Wonwoo hums, and does another slow circle around the car. It really doesn’t look like it’ll still run. It definitely doesn’t look like it should, anyway, like someone should’ve put it out of its misery before it ever made its way to this lot for Soonyoung’s picking, but here it is regardless. He peers into the window, checks out the tear in the passenger seat, the stains and scratches marring the dash. It’s got a CD player, at least.

“I’m gonna take her,” Soonyoung says. Wonwoo knew going into this he would. He knew the second Soonyoung texted him at five o’clock that morning asking him to come out with him today that this was going to be it.

“You better make her nice, or you’re gonna have to find someone else to drive around with.”

Soonyoung’s lips edge up, a glint flashing in his eye as he steals a look towards him. “Who says I wanted you along for the ride to begin with?”

Wonwoo returns his look easy. They’ve always matched like that. The way if you bite something hard enough, it leaves a mark. Soonyoung. Wonwoo. Tooth, scar. Fit one into the other, there’s completion.

“Don’t forget, I know you.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t go on sucking your own dick or anything. Just that you’re you.” Soonyoung turns away, then, but Wonwoo can still see his smile.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, pretends he knows what he’s talking about, and follows Soonyoung to talk to an actual salesperson. It’ll be worth it, he thinks. Will definitely give Soonyoung something to do with himself, and something to curb the godawful reckless itch he’s got crawling under his skin.

Driving home, Soonyoung’s got this look on his face Wonwoo recognizes to mean he better pull his seatbelt across his chest, secure it tight, and pray he makes it out of this in tact, physically and otherwise.

  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung and Jihoon fixed it up nice. It goes fast, holds together in one piece, doesn’t smell like smoke and burning plastic every time Wonwoo steps out of it anymore. Still the same ugly yellow, and Wonwoo can feel the engine in his ass when Soonyoung really gets it going. But it’s Soonyoung’s. Something more than that. An extension of him, Wonwoo thinks.

It tears down the empty street, nosing ahead of Minghao, even if Wonwoo knows there’s slim chance it’ll stay that way. Still, though.

“I didn’t come out here to watch you lose,” Wonwoo says, gaze sliding over to Soonyoung, whose eyes are narrowed in focus. It rises a low smile out of him, and the engine growls louder as the car gains more speed.

The roads aren’t even this far out, and the car jumps and rattles with every crack and pothole, even as Soonyoung swerves the car to avoid them. Each bump sends a charge up Wonwoo’s spine, sparking through his veins, burning him right to the core as he watches Soonyoung’s steely determination, hands tight on the wheel. What lingers beneath the surface is what feels most dangerous here.

A red light ahead. It may as well serve as the finish line, with no side street convenient enough to peel a hard turn down. Wonwoo braces one hand on the door, fixes his heart in his chest, and watches as Minghao’s Hellcat pulls ahead at just the last moment.

Soonyoung’s problem, as Wonwoo sees it: he’s all speed and fire from the sound off, and it leaves him fizzling out right at the end, no energy left to spare. No balance. None of Minghao’s practicality and sense. Pure heat and drive and bottomless _need._

Wonwoo watches a shuddering laugh ripple out of him as they come to a stop beside Minghao, blonde hair hanging messy into carefully lined eyes, the spark still lighting something in him, and he thinks, yeah. He gets it. He _gets it._

Minghao rolls his window down and leans himself half out of it, Hansol angling himself into the empty space behind him. Soonyoung shifts forward enough to hear him speak, crowding into Wonwoo’s space.

He really gets it.

“What’re you doing all the way out here, Kwon?” Minghao calls out. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“And you’re not?” Soonyoung slides back at him, easy.

Minghao gives a wide, crooked grin. Wonwoo can feel Soonyoung’s breath on his neck and can’t decide whether to lean into it or as far away as he can get.

“I never ask for anything,” Minghao says. “You just happened to grace us with your presence, so I took the opportunity.”

“I’m always happy to be of service.” Soonyoung drops back into his seat, and Wonwoo drags in a slow breath. “I’ll get you next time. Just watch.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

They both know the odds are a solid ten-to-one, but Soonyoung’s never looked at a hand and thought it was a destined failure. Always a way to flip the deck, he says, enough that it’s engrained in Wonwoo’s bones by now. So Minghao smiles in a way that says he means it, that he’ll be on his toes for him like he always is, and Wonwoo is left to watch Soonyoung settle a little better into himself. Whatever was eating at him at the start of the night when he first texted Wonwoo is starting to dissolve.

The light turns green. Minghao speeds off, onto the next one, and Soonyoung takes the first turn that comes to them.

And because Soonyoung works in ritual and ceremony, Wonwoo knows how the rest of the night will go. Soonyoung won’t talk about it, but he’ll fill the space with his voice and other musings, now that he’s less wound up, as he takes the long road back to Wonwoo’s. Wonwoo will sit and listen and hang off every word and be ready to fire back with anything to dial his ego down a notch, and will try not to count down how many miles are left before the clock runs out.

It’s not until Wonwoo’s in bed, blankets pulled up to his chin, that Soonyoung texts him, offers him a simple _thank you_ before spiraling into _it’s just— i’m just— you know dead end roads kinda stress me tf out and i worry sometimes i’m at one— i think i just lose focus sometimes??— you know. you get it— you always know me best_

And because Wonwoo does, he doesn’t have to press to know the answers. He can read between the lines.

_they just also put one of my favorite songs on the regular playlist at work i had to hear it 4279 times today if it gets ruined for me i’m torching the place and framing hao_

  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung’s socked feet stick out the driver’s side window, toes flexing, warping the cat pattern printed across the fabric. He hasn’t been waiting that long, but Wonwoo’s prepared for him to act like it. He presses his lips together to stifle a smile and shoves his hands into his pockets as he approaches.

“You can get in trouble for loitering, you know,” Wonwoo says, leaning into the window. Soonyoung’s tipped sideways in some messed up position that looks like it’d be wildly uncomfortable for anyone less flexible than him, fingers tapping away at some game on his phone he definitely sucks at. “My building manager’s an asshole, and already hates your ugly car.”

“Starlight is _beautiful,_ first of all,” Soonyoung says, looking up from the phone, “and second of all, I have a parking permit.”

“Stolen.”

“From you.” He cracks a wide smile, presses one foot to the center of Wonwoo’s chest but doesn’t push. Yet. “So unless you’re going to report me . . .”

“Who says I haven’t already?” Wonwoo matches his expression step for step. “Who says I wasn’t sent out here to tell you to find a legal parking spot someplace else where you’re not uglying up our lot—“

Soonyoung does push then, sending Wonwoo stumbling back a couple steps, laughing. “Just get in, asshole,” he calls out. “Pain in the ass, I’m texting Chan next time.”

“You won’t.” This is ground into stone hundreds of millennia deep, one of the oldest laws of the universe.

Soonyoung pulls his feet back in and sits up straight, and Wonwoo drops into the passenger seat. It’s familiar. Something he’s been doing since he was still in school, and Soonyoung would drive around to pick him up after his last class to take him to wherever he felt like, because while Wonwoo had responsibilities and things to do, Soonyoung just had his car. His car and Wonwoo. Millennia deep.

“Care to tell me where we’re going? I turned down a ride home from Seungcheol for this,” Wonwoo tells him.

“Too good for the metro now?” Soonyoung says. “Can’t just catch a train like the rest of us?”

“You don’t take the train.”

Soonyoung waves a hand to brush him off. “Semantics. I work tonight, so we’re getting dinner. Maybe ice cream. Actually—“ Soonyoung sits up a little straighter, like he’s come to a very big and important realization, that deserves to be delivered well. “We’re getting ice cream. Dinner and ice cream. I want strawberry.”

Wonwoo’s never been one to tell him no, so he lets Soonyoung cart him around to do whatever his heart desires. They both get fulfillment like this.

Wonwoo works nine to five, on the clock, on the dot, routine as ever, the boxed up standard, recommended spoonful of sugar to help it go down. It means he’s easy pickings for Soonyoung, who knows his schedule, knows when he takes his lunches and breaks, down to the very minute. Easier than it is the other way around — Soonyoung works two jobs, between the mechanic and the convenience store kitty-corner from his apartment building, neither with fixed hours. Wonwoo never knows when he’s got a shift, just assumes based on whether or not he comes calling. But no matter what the hours are—

He still comes calling sometime.

Between the two of them, Wonwoo used to think he was the lucky one. It wasn’t a particularly nice thought, but one that edged its way into his mind regardless, as he went through four extra years of formal education and held down his Adult Office Job. He’s less sure now. Soonyoung didn’t follow the path Wonwoo clawed his way to reach, but looking at him sat comfortably in the driver’s seat of a car he’s proud of, getting to do what makes him feel alive at the end of the day, Wonwoo thinks maybe he had it all backwards.

“Come by and visit sometime tonight, yeah?” Soonyoung says, glancing over at him. “I get bored. Chan’s so busy with school now, I feel bad pestering him to entertain me.”

Wonwoo snorts. “But not me, when I have to be up so early in the morning?”

“Like you care.”

Of course, he knows.

“I’ll come by.” They both knew before Soonyoung even opened his mouth that he would, but he still says it anyway, “I’ll come by.”

  
  
  


Wonwoo sits with his feet on the dashboard, and Soonyoung doesn’t comment on it. Just reclines his own seat back as far as it’ll let him, spooning full bites of ice cream into his mouth. He’s parked them off on an empty side street, not quite private, secret and hidden like he might if they had more time, but with the sun down and the nearest street light way back at the corner, it feels close enough.

“I don’t know if I’m going anywhere from here,” Soonyoung confesses out of the blue. Wonwoo looks over, but doesn’t interrupt. He wondered if this might still be on his mind. The same feeling is always pooling in the back of Wonwoo’s, somewhere. “I think I’ve been stuck on a dead-end road since . . . I don’t know. A while. Since Hyunwoo hired me, maybe.” He doesn’t look particularly bothered by it. Just keeps eating his ice cream, loose sprinkles falling onto his torn hoodie. “I haven’t really done anything since? Not like you. I don’t really know what that means for me.”

Wonwoo makes a sound in the back of his throat. He’s not sure how to tell Soonyoung _he’s_ the one stuck going nowhere in a career he’s not even sure he ever really wanted. “I don’t think that’s right,” is what makes it out. Soonyoung turns his gaze onto him, interest piqued. “You’re not doing what’s conventional. That’s not a bad thing. I think . . .” Wonwoo stops, not sure what the right thing to say is. He takes a bite of his half-melted mint ice cream, stuffs down the heat in his chest. “You just can’t see the road ahead. You’ve got something, Soonyoung.”

“Mm.” He’s got this lazy, tired smile on his face, and he reaches over with one hand, curls his fingers loose around Wonwoo’s wrist. Wonwoo drops his spoon into his cup, and with his hand free, Soonyoung slides his hand up to meet it, hold it careful. “You’re so . . .” He turns their hands over, eyes holding Wonwoo’s gaze, half-lidded and sincere. “You. You’re you, Wonwoo.”

And Wonwoo hums like he knows what he’s trying to get at. Wonders if Soonyoung gets it, too. Holds fast.

  
  
  
  
  


“Son of a bitch— Wonwoo. Wonwoo, can I get a band-aid?”

Wonwoo looks up from the DS in his hands, sees Soonyoung kicking his legs, struggling to get out from under the car. Jihoon pulls back from where he’s working under the hood and just laughs, a single, short, _ha,_ when Soonyoung emerges cradling his hand.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch it?” Jihoon says.

Soonyoung’s lips jut out in a pout. “I was being careful.” He turns to look at Wonwoo. “I was being very careful.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as Jihoon scoffs, and hops down from the greasy counter to help him out. He kind of doubts Soonyoung was being all that cautious. He’s not even all that convinced Soonyoung knows what he’s doing under there.

But he’s giving his all. Wonwoo can guarantee that much. Soonyoung’s the type to pour all of himself into the things that matter to him, and this junky car _matters._ As it stands now, it looks like a battered reflection of him, Wonwoo thinks. Or, maybe more like, it’s a mirror image of the Soonyoung he met three years ago. In the process of patching up. The headlight’s fixed, but the upholstery is still torn and stained. It runs without something underneath rattling anymore, but kind of starts to smell like smoke if he goes too long, or too fast, and he’s always flooring it as far as he can get away. Loves to test the limits. Loves to fucking _go._

“You’ll kill yourself before you ever get her running nicely,” Jihoon says, tucking himself back under the hood. “And then I’m stuck with her.”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. You’d be lucky to have her,” Soonyoung sniffs, head held high. “She’s beautiful.”

“She _will_ be if you stop fucking around.”

Wonwoo finds the box of band-aids, goes to crouch next to Soonyoung on the ground.

“I’m not fucking around.” Soonyoung frowns. He holds his hand out, like he expects Wonwoo to take care of the cut for him. He will. “Wonwoo. Wonwoo, I’m not fucking around.”

There’s a knot in his chest that feels like it’s being pulled tighter when Soonyoung’s looking at him like that, pleading and needy, while Wonwoo’s holding his _hand,_ seriously.

“I know,” Wonwoo says. Soonyoung’s got soft hands. Not just moisturizes the shit out of them — that’s part of it, the peach hand cream is still part of it — but the way that even though Soonyoung’s attitude is sharp angles and reckless enough that he’s littered with all types of scars and scratches and bruises, he’s still _soft._ Comfortable.

“Wonwoo’s not a neutral party,” Jihoon mutters. “His agreement doesn’t count for shit.”

“You’re not a neutral party, either,” Soonyoung shoots back.

“But I’m still right.”

Soonyoung heaves a sigh and drops his head forward onto Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo smoothes the band-aid over his skin and feels the knot pulled tighter. He’s not sure when things started feeling like this, but they have, and there’s no backing out of it.

“Are you done?” Soonyoung grumbles. “Can I go for a drive?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jihoon says, and Soonyoung perks back up. He steps back from the car and wipes his hands off on a greasy rag. He doesn’t look half as messy as Soonyoung, despite the fact that he’s been doing just as much work. “Come back around Friday and we can reupholster the seats. Text me if shit’s still messed up.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Soonyoung says, giving him a two-fingered salute. He pushes up onto his feet and looks down at Wonwoo. “You coming? You can play Animal Crossing in the car.”

It’s not really a question, but even if it was, they both know the answer.

Soonyoung pulls out of Jihoon’s garage with Wonwoo’s heart in his throat. He can’t even really focus on his game, and by the time they’re halfway out of town and onto the quieter, barer streets, he’s tucked the DS away entirely. It’s just—

It’s not just that Soonyoung looks good behind the wheel. It’s that he looks _right_ there. One hand on the wheel, eyes lit up brighter with every mile per hour faster he goes, Soonyoung looks perfectly fit into place, and it’s difficult to not be completely captivated. And he’s got Wonwoo’s attention, whole and absolute.

But then, he’s never really had to try for it.

  
  
  
  
  


Sometimes luck puts Jun on the road. When Soonyoung’s too in his head, and texts Wonwoo at one in the morning saying he’s on his way over, and runs more than one red light speeding out of town, it’s luck that puts Jun on the road.

Wonwoo sits in the passenger seat, heart a jackknife flutter behind his ribs as he watches Soonyoung shift his car into the next gear, steely eyes lined in coal, the streetlights flashing by, his face flickering between gold and shadow.

Red light ahead, familiar Camaro idling. Soonyoung stops next to it, braking fast. When Jun looks over and sees them, he grins, revs his engine. Soonyoung follows suit, and Wonwoo sets his feet hard on the floor, bracing himself.

Jun always takes off like a bullet, gets a full length ahead right at the start, but he’s easy to fake out, easy to overtake, and Soonyoung’s peeling past him by the next light they blow through. Potholes rattle the car, sending Wonwoo’s lungs into his throat, but Soonyoung just grips the wheel harder. Shifts gears.

They blow through another light, the car cast in a green-red glow, Soonyoung screaming electric. Jun is still close in the rearview, but not close enough. Shift.

The street closes off at a three-way intersection, nothing but a high cement wall and a turn either way ahead of them, and Soonyoung brakes. Jun rolls to a stop beside them. Wonwoo’s pulse in his head, louder than the engine ever could be.

  
  
  


Jun invites them out. Jeonghan’s tending the bar, which means heavy handed pours. Soonyoung’s leaning heavy against Wonwoo in the cramped booth within a couple hours.

Soonyoung’s got Wonwoo’s hand picked up, been holding it for long enough that Wonwoo’s stopped thinking straight, has started playing absentmindedly with his fingers while he nods hazily along to the shitty pop Jeonghan lets Seokmin play.

Face pressed into Wonwoo’s shoulder, lips brushing against skin where his sweatshirt’s fallen loose, Soonyoung says, “I quit my job.” He tips his head harder into Wonwoo, right into the curve of his neck. “The store, not Hyunwoo’s. I can’t— It sucks. I hate it there and it stresses me out that I’m going nowhere, but I still don’t feel better. I feel . . .” Soonyoung lifts his head, holds Wonwoo’s hand in both of his, keeps his gaze fixed there. “Wonwoo, I don’t know what I’m doing. I keep looking for a solution and I don’t know if there is one.”

Music thumps hard against Wonwoo’s ribcage, filling up his lungs, shoving his breath up out of his throat. He brings his other hand up to settle over Soonyoung’s. Holds tight.

“There is one,” he says. Promises. “You just haven’t found it yet.”

Soonyoung shudders with a sigh. He looks a little worn out, the lights too bright against him. Wonwoo pulls their hands apart so he can hold Soonyoung’s properly, fingers curling into empty spaces. Tooth into scar.

“You’ll get there. You got here. So you’re doing fine.”

And Soonyoung nods like he believes him, and Wonwoo’s inclined to hope he really does.

  
  
  
  
  


Wonwoo slides into the passenger seat of Soonyoung’s car, tired from a full day of classes, knowing he’s still got readings to do before tomorrow hits. But Soonyoung’s there, has a full milkshake in the center cupholder, and a CD in the player that finally works. One Wonwoo likes but he’s pretty sure Soonyoung doesn’t particularly care for.

Nights like these go one of two ways, and Wonwoo knew how tonight would be as soon as his phone lit up with a call from Soonyoung.

He drives fast out of town, but mindfully. Non-excessive. It’s speed not born out of heady emotion pressing on his lungs, but out of who Soonyoung is as a person. Wonwoo’s not sure he could go the legal speed limit if he wanted to.

Street lights have Soonyoung glowing in gold, washing the whole car in a low haze, something that makes it all feel a little more dreamlike. The too-bright bleached tone of Soonyoung’s hair softens with the rest of him, eyes burning warm. A match strikes, sets Wonwoo’s veins ablaze.

Soonyoung looks right behind the wheel of a car. Looks _good._ Looks ridiculously, stupid good, one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the song. All casual and cool in a way he can’t pull off well anywhere else. He makes a wide turn, palm pressing hard against the wheel as his arm makes the full motion of it. The knot in Wonwoo’s chest pulls tighter.

When they’re a good distance through town, and when Wonwoo’s downed half the milkshake in an attempt to give himself something to do to fill the space Soonyoung’s been occupying in his mind, Soonyoung starts talking. Little nothings, empty thoughts. Just rambling, voice quiet and rumbling, mouth turned up at one end. Nights like this, Soonyoung just wants to _talk._ Wants to talk, wants Wonwoo to be there to listen, and Wonwoo just wants. So he’s there.

Soonyoung pulls off to the side of a long stretch of empty road, puts the car in park, keeps it running so the music can still play low and the heat can still puff out in spurts, turns himself in his seat so he can kind of actually face Wonwoo.

Wonwoo _wants._

“How’s school? How are classes going? Professors all alright?” Soonyoung asks. “You’re still on the newspaper, right? You better be, you’re good at all that.”

Wonwoo gives up a quiet smile. “They’re good. It’s all going good. There’s one— that law class. I think it might be a pain in the ass, but the professor is the advisor for the paper, so it’s, you know. He’s good.” Wonwoo tells him everything he wants to know, and Soonyoung looks at him like he’s pouring all his attention out into him. Soonyoung may not have liked school, may have been more than happy to finally be done with it, skipping out on any further formal education, but he listens to Wonwoo like he cares about absolutely all of it. Maybe he does. Or at least, there’s something there.

It eats away at him like rust on his bones. Soonyoung’s rapt attention is a lot to manage here, like this. Soonyoung is a lot to manage like this.

The want will eat him alive someday. But here in Soonyoung’s car, the low streetlights washing him in a hazy, warm glow, conversation low and music lower, all Wonwoo can do is burn.

  
  
  
  
  


“Are you sure you want to go home?” Wonwoo asks, ducking his head into the car window. Soonyoung’s tired enough that Wonwoo’s not sure he should be driving, definitely not sure he should go be home alone tonight. “You could always stay here, you know.”

“I don’t know, are you sure I won’t get towed for uglying up the lot?” Soonyoung says, just an edge of laughter in his voice.

Wonwoo smiles. “You’ve got a permit.”

“Stolen.”

“From me.”

Tooth. Scar. Fit into place.

Soonyoung comes up to Wonwoo’s apartment.

  
  
  
  
  


Wonwoo takes a bus to get to Hyunwoo’s after work. Soonyoung’s working in the garage, hidden under the hood of a gleaming BMW. Something about it is a little off-putting. Soonyoung belongs in a car, around cars, like this, but shiny and new’s never been his style. Fixer-uppers. An echo of the soul.

He looks occupied, and Wonwoo doesn’t want to interrupt. Mainly because he startles easy, and he doesn’t want to be responsible for another stupid injury. So he leans against the wall near the doorway, watches his muscles tense and flex under his thin t-shirt.

He’s more competent now than he was working on his own car at Jihoon’s, but still just as messy. Oil on his pants, grease across his forehead, a scattering of band-aids down his arms. White blonde hair hangs into his eyes, missing the standard liner while he’s working, because _what’s the point in sweating it all off, seriously, that shit’s not cheap, and the air conditioning’s been busted in there for three years._

It’s better visiting him here than it ever was at the corner store. Soonyoung likes it here. He’s always happier, brighter, friendlier. More in his element than he ever could be trying to get anyone to sign up for shitty rewards programs.

A good ten minutes go by before Soonyoung finally steps back from the car. He stretches his arms over his head with a groan. He freezes when he turns and spots Wonwoo waiting.

His mouth falls open, hanging for just a moment before his eyebrows knit together. “How long have you been here? Why didn’t you say something? _Wonwoo.”_

Wonwoo flashes a smile, and it grows wider as he watches Soonyoung struggle not to return it. “You were supposed to get off twenty minutes ago. I wanted to get dinner.”

Soonyoung straightens up, angles away from him, like he’s trying to act fucking _coy,_ even though he definitely can’t pull it off when Wonwoo _knows_ him. “Who says I don’t already have plans?” he says lightly.

“I can make an educated guess,” Wonwoo slides back. “I don’t have a ride home without you, y’know.”

“Good. Walking is good exercise for you.”

Wonwoo snorts, and Soonyoung only manages to keep up the act a moment longer before the smile cracks through.

“Whatever, yeah, we can get dinner.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s fond, and he swings an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders as he starts walking towards the back. “You pick the place, but it’s gotta be takeout. I’m, like, itching to go somewhere right now. Fucking weird not having another shift to go to.”

Wonwoo hums, feeling a little pleased. Better day.

They get cheap noodles, and Soonyoung runs into a corner store to buy even cheaper alcohol before peeling off to someplace quiet, someplace private.

Someplace ends up being down a dead-end street, a single streetlamp just behind. Soonyoung climbs over the center console to get into the back seat, narrowly missing kicking Wonwoo right in the head, and Wonwoo follows much more carefully. Soonyoung passes him a bottle of hard cider before taking one for himself.

It’s a tight fit, both of them in the back, but not uncomfortable. Soonyoung kicks his shoes off and drops his feet in Wonwoo’s lap, and Wonwoo’s free hand settles on his ankle. This is a familiar space. Just as familiar: Wonwoo’s ribs, feeling shrunk three sizes down in the wash, closing around his heart.

“I didn’t think you’d come by,” Soonyoung confesses. “Today. I didn’t think . . . I thought I’d have to call you after and drag you out with me.” He takes a long sip of cider, leaving Wonwoo to process that he needs to respond.

“You see it like that? Having to drag me out?” he says. It comes out sounding half strangled, which isn’t right. “I’m always waiting on you to call or text. . . . You wanted to see me.”

“Of course?” Soonyoung frowns. Shifts like he’s suddenly uncomfortable being all the way across the bench, sits up straighter so he’s that much closer. “I’m always waiting to? Of course I’m—“ Soonyoung huffs, scoots forward. His knees knock against Wonwoo’s elbow, and he sets the half-empty bottle on the ground and hopes it doesn’t spill. “Wonwoo.” He takes Wonwoo’s face in his hands, makes sure he’s looking right at him. “You’re you.”

“What does that mean?” Wonwoo says, voice coming out small. “You say that, and I never know what it means.” The rope pulling at either end of the knot threatens to snap with the tension. Is he not a dead end road?

“It means you’re the beginning and end of it all, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung breathes.

That’s the final piece of it.

Wonwoo tips his head forward, and Soonyoung meets him halfway, matching him step for step. Millenia deep.

Soonyoung approaches everything as ceremony, and kissing Wonwoo is just the same. Slow moving, hands on his cheeks until they’re not, until one’s moving to the back of his head, fingers tangling in loose curls, and the other drags down to the junction of his neck and shoulder, holding steady. Wonwoo catches up, catching Soonyoung’s waist in his hands, and as soon as he does, Soonyoung tips him back further, until his head stops against the window.

A struck match, the cord in his chest snapping and sending everything unfurling. This is Soonyoung. Soonyoung in his car, the sum and whole of it engrained in Wonwoo’s bones.

“You,” Soonyoung murmurs against his lips. “You. That’s _you.”_

And Wonwoo is undone.

  
  
  
  
  


The traffic lights play green—yellow—red across the dashboard, the final flash of green sending him rocketing off down the street. Wonwoo watches through the window as Minghao’s Hellcat keeps an even pace, then turns to look at Soonyoung, eyes dark with liner and narrowed in focus. He grins.

“I didn’t come out here to watch you lose, you know,” he says, and Soonyoung gives a sharp laugh.

“If you think I’m letting Minghao pull ahead of me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Everything feels lighter tonight, charged and electric. Green flashes through the car as they pass under another light.

Shift.

“It’d be pretty embarrassing, after all your talk last time,” Wonwoo eggs on.

“It’d be a lot easier to drive if you’d shut up and stop distracting me.” Soonyoung’s eyes flash towards him for the briefest moment, grin stretching across his face, and Wonwoo laughs.

Shift.

Nights like these go like this:

Soonyoung called the second he was off work, said he was on his way over, and Wonwoo met him step for step, already waiting. Dinner, terrible old movie that Soonyoung kept laughing at, asked about his day before returning with talk about business at the garage and how fucking _nice_ it is to be full-time with real responsibilities and trust in something he actually likes, and _did you hear back from that magazine, did they like your stuff, I’ll go speak with them personally if they don’t hire you and get you out of that hellscape marketing job._

Minghao came upon them by chance. Soonyoung’s never been one to turn down a perfectly good opportunity.

Wonwoo watches Soonyoung drive with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift so he can meet his bottomless need to go as fast as he can get, until later when they drive home and it’ll settle on Wonwoo’s knee, maybe, if Wonwoo doesn’t pick it up to hold in his own. Soonyoung looks good here. Looks right. Wonwoo feels right.

The light ahead is red, looking like the end of the line, and Minghao ahead of them starts to slow. Soonyoung doesn’t.

The light flashes green.

They rocket ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> brought to you by the fact that i have been thinking about cars + how they're one of the biggest staples of romance for the last like week and also the real ver. teasers
> 
> no i don't know anything about cars or street racing nd considering it's been a while .. not sure i know much about writing rn either but here we are. this is v broken up! possibly a little incomprehensible! but i appreciate it very much if you read through it and i really really hope you enjoyed it♡
> 
> (pancitowoozi on twit!)


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